couldn‘t spell the ―sociology‖ part. I was willing.
―We‘re going to give you a chance to prove that you‘re wild,‖ Sage declared.
―Okay, fine. As long as it isn‘t illegal. Or sexual,‖ I added hastily.
Sage nibbled contemplatively on a manicured forefinger. Then she waggled her eyebrows at her sister. ―How about . . . skinny-dipping? In our saltwater pool? There‘s a freshwater pool over at Grandma‘s house, but I know you aren‘t wild enough do it there.‖
Skinny-dipping? Skinny-dipping was the best they could come up with? Honestly, I was mildly disappointed in the Fabulous Baker Twins. I‘d gone to hippie New Hampshire sleepaway camp. Skinny-dipping was nothing—or rather, it had been nothing when I was twelve and still had wonderfully prepubescent hips and perky almost-breasts.
Sage‘s fat-ass jab still stung a little.
―And where would you guys be?‖ I asked.
―We aren‘t going to stand around watching, if that‘s what you think.‖ Sage sounded insulted that I‘d even consider such a thing. ―We‘ll get the champagne for when you get out. To celebrate our new start together and our eventual entry into the shallowed halls of Duke University.‖
Shallowed? Oy. I definitely had my work cut out for me.
Identify which part of the following sentence is incorrect: Swimming nude in the (a) presents of one‘s students (b) is a remarkable way to make (c) a big splash (d) in a new job. (e) No error
chapter nine
In the half hour between my ―okay, I‘ll do it‖ and the actuality of the act, there was more than enough time for second thoughts.
It didn‘t take a Yale grad to balance the equation. Maturity was not the twins‘ strong suit. Plus, it was only after I‘d dodged their query about my wildest sexual escapade that Sage had decided on my saltwater plunge in the buff. I added the elements together and came up with the obvious answer: photographs. Sage and Rose would be waiting, camera in hand, when I climbed out of the pool. They‘d probably post the pix at www.ratemytits.com and cast a thousand ―1‖ votes against me.
It couldn‘t be too difficult to outsmart two not-so-smart teen girls.
I found the deck on the east side of the twins‘ manse. Bright gaslight torches illuminated the perimeter. The deck was dotted with cerulean chaise longues and a cabana with a fully stocked bar. A stone seawall separated the deck from the beach and, beyond that, the ocean. As I‘d anticipated, the twins were waiting for me. I didn‘t see any cameras, but that didn‘t mean they weren‘t stashed behind the bar.
―Right on time,‖ Sage called cheerfully. Too cheerfully. Fine, I would play along.
―Hey. I‘m on time tonight. You be on time tomorrow.‖ I dragged a chaise to the edge of the pool and turned my back to them as I began unbuttoning my white shirt. The salty ocean air felt thick and warm on my bare skin. It was hard to believe I‘d been in nearly freezing New York City just that morning.
―Are you shy?‖ Sage asked.
―Sometimes,‖ I called over my shoulder as nonchalantly as possible. I draped my shirt over the chair, careful to leave one of the sleeves within grabbing distance of the water.
I figured if I saw candid photography in the offing, I could pull the shirt into the pool and put it on. It would get soaked, but it was long enough to hide what needed to be hidden.
Rose nudged her sister. ―It‘s kind of sweet, really.‖
―Yeah, sweet.‖
I stepped out of my skirt and draped it across the chair, too. The girls recoiled in horror.
―Have you no pride?‖ Sage was aghast.
I figured she was insulting my body again, and the words Screw you, you brain-dead twit came to mind . However, that wouldn‘t have been entirely conducive to building a productive teacher-student relationship. Before I could decide whether immediate satisfaction outweighed temperate maturity, Sage clarified herself. ―Your underwear.
How could you?‖
Remember that I‘d
―We‘re going to give you a chance to prove that you‘re wild,‖ Sage declared.
―Okay, fine. As long as it isn‘t illegal. Or sexual,‖ I added hastily.
Sage nibbled contemplatively on a manicured forefinger. Then she waggled her eyebrows at her sister. ―How about . . . skinny-dipping? In our saltwater pool? There‘s a freshwater pool over at Grandma‘s house, but I know you aren‘t wild enough do it there.‖
Skinny-dipping? Skinny-dipping was the best they could come up with? Honestly, I was mildly disappointed in the Fabulous Baker Twins. I‘d gone to hippie New Hampshire sleepaway camp. Skinny-dipping was nothing—or rather, it had been nothing when I was twelve and still had wonderfully prepubescent hips and perky almost-breasts.
Sage‘s fat-ass jab still stung a little.
―And where would you guys be?‖ I asked.
―We aren‘t going to stand around watching, if that‘s what you think.‖ Sage sounded insulted that I‘d even consider such a thing. ―We‘ll get the champagne for when you get out. To celebrate our new start together and our eventual entry into the shallowed halls of Duke University.‖
Shallowed? Oy. I definitely had my work cut out for me.
Identify which part of the following sentence is incorrect: Swimming nude in the (a) presents of one‘s students (b) is a remarkable way to make (c) a big splash (d) in a new job. (e) No error
chapter nine
In the half hour between my ―okay, I‘ll do it‖ and the actuality of the act, there was more than enough time for second thoughts.
It didn‘t take a Yale grad to balance the equation. Maturity was not the twins‘ strong suit. Plus, it was only after I‘d dodged their query about my wildest sexual escapade that Sage had decided on my saltwater plunge in the buff. I added the elements together and came up with the obvious answer: photographs. Sage and Rose would be waiting, camera in hand, when I climbed out of the pool. They‘d probably post the pix at www.ratemytits.com and cast a thousand ―1‖ votes against me.
It couldn‘t be too difficult to outsmart two not-so-smart teen girls.
I found the deck on the east side of the twins‘ manse. Bright gaslight torches illuminated the perimeter. The deck was dotted with cerulean chaise longues and a cabana with a fully stocked bar. A stone seawall separated the deck from the beach and, beyond that, the ocean. As I‘d anticipated, the twins were waiting for me. I didn‘t see any cameras, but that didn‘t mean they weren‘t stashed behind the bar.
―Right on time,‖ Sage called cheerfully. Too cheerfully. Fine, I would play along.
―Hey. I‘m on time tonight. You be on time tomorrow.‖ I dragged a chaise to the edge of the pool and turned my back to them as I began unbuttoning my white shirt. The salty ocean air felt thick and warm on my bare skin. It was hard to believe I‘d been in nearly freezing New York City just that morning.
―Are you shy?‖ Sage asked.
―Sometimes,‖ I called over my shoulder as nonchalantly as possible. I draped my shirt over the chair, careful to leave one of the sleeves within grabbing distance of the water.
I figured if I saw candid photography in the offing, I could pull the shirt into the pool and put it on. It would get soaked, but it was long enough to hide what needed to be hidden.
Rose nudged her sister. ―It‘s kind of sweet, really.‖
―Yeah, sweet.‖
I stepped out of my skirt and draped it across the chair, too. The girls recoiled in horror.
―Have you no pride?‖ Sage was aghast.
I figured she was insulting my body again, and the words Screw you, you brain-dead twit came to mind . However, that wouldn‘t have been entirely conducive to building a productive teacher-student relationship. Before I could decide whether immediate satisfaction outweighed temperate maturity, Sage clarified herself. ―Your underwear.
How could you?‖
Remember that I‘d
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